Chapter 105

Caesar looked up and, as expected, saw the Wind Fury behind the black-haired young man who was clinging to him. The ship was packed with crew members who were gazing at him with starry eyes. His first mate was lazily leaning on the bow, waving at him with a smile. Even that brat Leoza was there, though he wasn’t staring at Caesar—he was glaring at the former navigator of the Wind Fury who was hanging from Caesar’s chest.

“…”

The harmonious and cheerful atmosphere of a happy ending gave the captain a headache.

Cursing under his breath, Caesar grabbed the limp figure in his arms and lifted him up to face him. Just as he was about to say something, something familiar was shoved into his mouth. He paused, instinctively biting down on it. The soft texture, slightly damp, didn’t hinder the pure aroma of tobacco from seeping into his nostrils through his teeth.

It was his favorite German tobacco, produced by some obscure rural workshop. Where had this guy gotten it—

Miguel grinned, his eyes curving into crescents. “I found it in your chest.”

“…You’re giving me my own stuff? You really have no shame.”

There wasn’t much reproach in his tone, more like teasing. The man hummed, squinting as he bit down on the cigarette butt. Feeling rather pleased, he gave the black-haired young man a once-over before his gaze settled on his waist, where the dagger he had personally locked away half a month ago hung securely—

[The masterpiece of the ‘Master Craftsman’ Ganderwolf, inlaid with three sapphires and eighteen first-grade cat’s eyes, worth tens of thousands of gold coins on the black market.] Caesar still remembered how he had introduced Ghost Slayer to Miguel that day in the run-down tavern on Djerba Island. Back then, Miguel had been wearing a dancer’s gauze skirt, his ass sticking out as he pressed down on Caesar, their legs tangled together like twisted rope.

Hmph, so this was how their twisted fate began.

“Heh, seems like you didn’t just take tobacco from my chest…”

The captain lowered his head slightly, obligingly letting the bootlicker Miguel light the cigarette for him. After taking a deep drag, his expression became somewhat obscured by the swirling smoke. Finally, he released the hand that had been resting on Miguel’s waist. The latter stepped back, plopping down on the statue’s toe, but still craned his neck to look up at him stubbornly.

The tobacco’s scent stimulated his brain through his nostrils. Caesar fell silent for a moment, using the time to organize his thoughts.

Some of the people on the Wind Fury’s deck had already dispersed. They didn’t immediately throw down the rope ladder for Caesar to leave the statue because they knew things couldn’t possibly end so simply. Now that they had found their captain, well-fed and well-rested, whatever the captain said would be the law.

So at this moment, while the captain was having a date with his man, the others could roll away and wait patiently.

Caesar’s expression remained calm throughout, only pausing slightly when he first saw the Wind Fury. After that, he showed neither joy nor anger towards everything that had happened, as if it was all something he didn’t want to happen but had expected all along.

Sitting down next to Miguel, the man’s amber eyes fixed on a corner of the iceberg. There, the floating ice was slowly drifting with the ocean current. Some of the Wind Fury’s crew had cast fishing lines, seemingly very interested in the fresh glacier fish. Caesar watched quietly for a while, extinguishing the cigarette by his feet, and finally made a decision: “At dawn, you’ll go back.”

“Oh,” Miguel nodded indifferently, “If you don’t leave, the Wind Fury won’t leave either.”

“I’m the captain.”

“A captain who watches his ship sail away from below? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“…”

Caesar grabbed the black-haired young man’s wet, ice-covered head and forcibly turned it to the side. Miguel obediently twisted his neck, meeting a pair of deep, unfathomable eyes—in fact, Caesar always seemed like this, as if there was nothing in the world he didn’t know, yet nothing in the world could understand him.

Sometimes Miguel felt like he didn’t understand what Caesar was thinking either—if there’s a way out, just take it. What’s with all the fuss?

“No more nonsense, you’ll leave at dawn.”

“We’re not leaving. No negotiation.”

“I’ve seen the sea monster guarding the Land of Dawn,” Caesar said, his gaze fixed on Miguel’s eyes, emotionless yet persistent. “Its width is equivalent to three Wind Furies lined up. Its fangs can pierce through the hull of any warship, and its dorsal spines can sever the strongest ship keels in the world—right now, it’s sleeping beneath our feet, waking up every three days to hunt. It last submerged into the sea three hours before you arrived.”

Miguel tried to visualize it in his mind, eventually conjuring up something akin to the Loch Ness Monster—said to be the guardian of the Land of Dawn, that big monster was probably a prehistoric creature from the Ice Age, right? So it’s ancient? Hmph, thinking of it that way made it seem a bit less terrifying.

Caesar reached out and patted the black-haired young man, who was lost in thought, and snorted: “Why do you think those sirens didn’t dare chase you into the glacier gap?”

Miguel paused, then turned to look at Caesar with an expression that said, How do you know everything? You’re amazing. “You know we ran into sirens?”

Caesar snorted and smiled: “Get this straight, this is my territory.”

“No wonder that siren took your form to seduce me,” Miguel scratched his head, “Good thing I’m sharp. Even half-asleep, I knew the first thing you’d do when we met was tell me to get lost. Expecting you to say something like ‘I missed you too’ is harder than climbing to the heavens—”

“I missed you too.”

“…Huh?”

“Climb to the heavens and see?”

“…”

Miguel was left speechless.

Caesar tilted his head and looked at him for a while, feeling quite pleased to see him flustered. He reached out and ruffled Miguel’s hair, continuing in a gentle tone: “Sirens can’t transform into other people. They do have the ability to bewitch humans. Anyone who sees them will think they’re facing the person they miss the most—ninety percent of people will be lost in the illusion of tenderness it creates. You managed to stay sober, so you must love me to death.”

…What, a Baidu encyclopedia? And where did that last sentence come from, randomly popping up like that?

And he could say it with such a straight face and calm tone—you’re the one who loves yourself to death, aren’t you?!

Miguel stared at Caesar for a long time, unable to come up with a retort. Just as the other man was about to turn his head away, Miguel cupped Caesar’s face with both hands and quickly pulled out a small wooden cylinder from his pocket—the crude waterproof tube was so poorly made that Caesar could guess who made it with just a glance. He raised an eyebrow, unusually patient as he watched Miguel open the cylinder and pull out a piece of parchment.

Caesar’s eye twitched.

“Here!” Miguel held the parchment up to Caesar’s face, “Take a good look. Our marriage certificate. You signed it yourself, so you recognize it, right? Hey, turning your head away doesn’t count!”

“How did Rick even show this to you?” Caesar reached out to grab it.

“He said you told him to show it to me,” Miguel said smugly, quickly dodging Caesar’s reach. He rolled the parchment up and shamelessly stuffed it into his pants, patting it. “Come and get it if you dare!”

“Never mind,” Caesar’s momentary embarrassment turned into disdain. He glanced at the smug black-haired young man with distaste, “With your level of German, you wouldn’t even understand what’s written on it—”

“Oh, no need to worry. Rick read it to me.”

“…”

Deduct his salary. Deduct it until he’s penniless!

Completely unaware that he’d just thrown Rick under the bus, Miguel leaned in closer to Caesar, their faces almost touching. Despite the freezing cold, they could feel each other’s warm breath on their lips. Miguel stared at the corner of Caesar’s lips for a long time, convinced he was looking at the most perfect lip line in the world.

Especially when it occasionally curled up into a domineering smile.

“Hey, I was thinking, since we’ve finally met, why don’t we…”

Their lips naturally met.

Why don’t we celebrate with a kiss?

It was the kind of kiss that made their hearts feel sticky. Neither Miguel nor his captain took the lead; they simply pressed their cold lips together, their tongues gently tracing the shape of each other’s lips. It was like how a beast would treat its young—carefully licking the icy lips, marking them with their own scent, sharing their warmth.

Caesar’s rough hand slipped into Miguel’s wet, heavy clothes, the warmth of his palm seeping through the thin underlayer of fabric, reaching deep into his heart despite the cold.

When they finally parted, Caesar didn’t say a word. He just yanked off Miguel’s soaked coat, which was heavy with ice and water. The few remaining onlookers on the Wind Fury’s deck had also disappeared. Everyone—including Miguel—thought the captain was about to get down to business—

But Caesar just tossed Miguel’s coat aside and, with a look of disgust, took off his own shirt and threw it at Miguel’s face.

“You’re freezing like an ice block. Who’d be in the mood to do anything with you?”

As Miguel pulled the shirt off his head and put it on, his disappointed expression prompted Caesar to mock him mercilessly.

The man, seemingly unaffected by the freezing cold, sat down a few steps away from Miguel, his upper body bare. Miguel stared at him for a while, hesitating to speak—this feeling was torturous. Caesar glanced at him, finally unable to stand it, and explained: “After becoming the guardian, you don’t feel the cold anymore.”

Oh.

I see.

That’s great. I’m terrified of the cold.

Wrapping himself in the shirt, Miguel nodded blankly. Though it was just a thin shirt, the warmth of the man who had worn it seemed like it would never fade.

It’ll probably last for about five hundred years, Miguel thought as he squatted nearby, counting on his fingers. Just as he was halfway through and realizing he’d run out of fingers—and was considering whether to use his toes—the base of the statue beneath them began to shake violently.

Accompanying the earthquake-like tremors, a massive bubble rose from the depths of the sea, bursting as it reached the surface. The resulting wave surged outward, some of the icy seawater even splashing onto the statue’s base and flowing to their feet.

From the depths of the sea came a roar, deep and muffled, yet unnervingly penetrating.

Miguel had never heard such a sound in his life.